


Ache

by trufflemores_Glee_fic



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores_Glee_fic/pseuds/trufflemores_Glee_fic
Summary: "For the first time in nearly six months, Kurt stood at the edge of his childhood bedroom and no longer felt at home. "





	Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! After receiving multiple requests to repost my old Glee fics, I have created a second AO3 account to do so. I hope you can forgive me for flooding the Glee pages over the next few days. 
> 
> I also ask for kindness regarding the quality of these fics. Over on my main AO3 account (trufflemores), I have written over 150 Flash fics; end result, my current work is of a higher quality than these older pieces. But I know how beloved old fics can be, and I respect that something I consider sub-par can be someone else's favorite. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this fic and any others you choose to read. If you choose to do so, I would also be happy to have you on board 'The Flash' bandwagon as well.
> 
> Kick back, relax, and enjoy. You have been one of the greatest audiences I have ever had.
> 
> Affectionately yours,  
> trufflemores

For the first time in nearly six months, Kurt stood at the edge of his childhood bedroom and no longer felt at home. 

Stepping over the threshold, he approached the bed with its still-open suitcases on top and brushed a hand across the immaculate sheets, never crisper after nearly three months of disuse.  Carole had outdone herself in anticipation of their arrival; he'd have happily lived in squalor to share the company, but she had insisted on freshening up the space, even turning down the sheets for them so they were ready to slide under the moment they desired.  The fact that there was room for two had played heavily into Kurt's willingness to forgo a hotel -- even if Blaine had graciously and playfully insisted that he would sleep on hot coals at the foot of Kurt's bed if it meant sharing the same room -- but the truth was, Kurt could never have abandoned the lure of the proximity to his parents. 

Still, he had expected to slip into his old comforts effortlessly.  It had only been three years since Blaine and he had moved into the same apartment; eighteen months exactly since they had been married (and Kurt would never, ever, ever get over the pleasant little thrill that shot through him every time he thought about the fact that Blaine was his husband).  So much and so little time had passed that he hadn't noticed the slight tilt in his perception when it came to restaurants he had never been to and streets he had only ever half-remembered.

But here, in this space that had always been his, he felt detached, the full weight of his return slowly sinking in.

Sweeping the room, he ran his hands along the shelves and picked up baubles whose meaning he couldn't recall, replacing them on their dust-free spaces with a growing sense of unease.  He looked at the photos on the walls and tried to recall the intensity of the feelings that had swept him in those moments, struggling to recall more than echoes of his current lifestyle â€“ the thrill of being on a Broadway stage and spending time with his friends in New York overtook the simpler and more mercurial pleasures of Glee club.  Unsure if he could even bear to look at his old traces, he turned his attention to the closet and sifted through his remaining wardrobe, relieved that he remembered most of the pieces, echoes of his current style still present.  In a way, they were like old friends to him, half-remembered relics from another time; it was comforting to him, in a stage of unfamiliar things, to find something that resonated.

A different ache welled up in Kurt's chest at the sound of Blaine's laughter below.  That, at least, felt like home; Kurt closed his eyes and pictured their apartment, with Blaine in the kitchen laughing over one of Elliot's comments.  He missed, suddenly, their bed; he missed their too-small rooms, their well-loved furniture, their stupidly tiny kitchen that meant bumping elbows and hugs from behind, their pipes that creaked, their unreliable hot water tank, the way strong, wonderful smells permeated the whole space in seconds and lingered, like cookies at Christmas, or turkey on Thanksgiving.

They'd only spent a handful of holidays together in that apartment and it already felt like home. 

Opening his eyes and looking at the spacious room around him, Kurt wondered if it was actually possible to outgrow something by downsizing.

Or maybe simply growing up.

"Kurt?"

Blaine was there, and Kurt resisted the urge to fling himself into his arms like a frightened child, crossing the room instead in three brisk strides and hugging him fiercely, startling a tiny oof out of him.  "Baby?" Blaine asked, hands coming up automatically to cradle the backs of Kurt's shoulders and God, Kurt wanted to melt into him, wanted to absorb his warmth and gentleness and solidarity until he didn't need to stand apart, ever again.  "What's wrong?"

When Kurt didn't -- couldn't -- find words, Blaine rubbed his back, slow, sweeping strokes that never failed to ease Kurt's tension.  That, at least, was familiar, grounding Kurt in the present.

He didn't know why it unsettled him so much, why he didn't want to lose the past, why he didn't want formerly meaningful things to become meaningless.

After a lifetime of loss, however, Kurt knew the truth: he didn't want to lose anything else.

"It's okay," Blaine promised, grounded and warm and real.  "I'm here.  It's okay."

They stayed like that for so long that Kurt began to wonder why his parents hadn't come calling before he realized that somewhere along the way, the elusive trust that his teenage self had never quite earned was finally achieved as an adult.  They were different people.  Burt and Carole knew this, as did Blaine, and Kurt, try though he might to deny it, couldn't ignore the truth.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt pulled back slightly, looking around his room and realizing that the initial panic had vanished.  It was still his space, even if the emotions and motivations and arguments held in its walls were more distant to him.  It was their space, he thought, glancing between the suitcases and Blaine.

And, in its own way, it was home.

Because home was wherever Blaine happened to be.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Please let me know if there are any weird coding errors in the fic! I did my best to weed them out before publication, but some will inevitably slip through the cracks.


End file.
